SEPTEMBER 2, 1997:
"Jam of the Year" was the perfect title for The Artist Formerly Known as
Prince's return to the American concert stage. Last Friday's two-hour
performance at the Nashville Arena underscored the fact that Prince--excuse
me, The Artist--is no longer interested in dazzling crowds with
snappy songwriting smarts or with elaborate stage shows involving
ejaculating guitars. Instead, the diminutive, sinewy man from Minnesota
came to town to jam on the groove. Throughout the show, he concentrated on
expansive funk songs built around rhythmic interplay and elastic tempos.

Unfortunately, that meant The Artist skipped or skimmed over some of his
greatest contributions to pop music. For the most part, the show ignored a
sizable chunk of his best tunes, and many that did appear were crammed into
two solo medleys, both of which offered only desultory snippets of melodies
and choruses. A solo electric guitar segment, performed early in the
concert, featured "Alphabet St." (which included crowd-pleasing references
to "Tennessee") and the great "When U Were Mine"; a later solo piano
segment included painfully brief portions of "Delirious," "Diamonds and
Pearls," and "The Beautiful Ones."

For the majority of the show, however, The Artist got on the good foot,
mimicking James Brown, Sly Stone, and Parliament/ Funkadelic's George
Clinton. As his band stretched out into lengthy, groove-driven tunes, he
worked the stage with sensual, athletic dance steps that appeared to be a
combination of inspired spontaneity and planned choreography. Acting more
as song-leader than singer, the frontman repeatedly cajoled the crowd into
singing along with him. He'd set them up with exaggerated lead-ins, then
react with fanciful steps and quick spins when they responded on cue.

This strategy worked best when the songs were worth the energy both he
and the crowd put into them. It's hard to imagine anyone else working an
audience into such a wild celebration as he did on "Sexy MF," a song made
to be performed onstage. Just as The Artist reached the chorus, he stepped
aside from the microphone, and more than 10,000 dancing fans pointed at him
and screamed in unison, "You sexy motherfucker!" As the response washed
over him, the singer struck a pose, his hands theatrically brushing through
his hair, as if it were perfectly natural to hear these words shouted at
him. He then jumped into another elaborate dance routine, setting up the
crowd to chant the words with even more enthusiasm the next time around. It
was one of the most audacious and exhilarating moments I've ever witnessed
at a rock concert.

Unfortunately, only a few songs--"Li'l Red Corvette," "Gett Off,"
"Kiss," the encore-ending "When Doves Cry"--afforded such climactic highs.
The show was more tease than release, although The Artist's incredibly
tuneful, rangy voice and amazing physical dexterity offered more excitement
than most current pop stars can manage.

Taking it to the stageThe Artist Formerly Known as Prince,
working the crowd at the Nashville Arena.
Photo by Eric England.

The opening theme, "Jam of the Year," set the stage for the whole show.
Taken from the Artist's recent album, Emancipation, the song lacked
the ferocity of Prince's earlier concert openers, which included "Let's Go
Crazy" and "1999" (both of which were left out of the Nashville show).
Nonetheless, "Jam of the Year" did set a jazzy, flexible groove that got
the eager crowd on its feet. It worked nicely into the second song, a
surprising yet appropriate version of James Brown's "Talkin' Loud and
Sayin' Nothin'." But the crowd didn't truly erupt until a spoken-word break
led into "Purple Rain," a powerful song that emphasized just how
distinctive The Artist's older hits are--especially in a set featuring
several newer, weaker tunes.

For his part, The Artist focused as much attention as possible on two
cuts from Emancipation, "Face Down" and his cover of Joan Osborne's
hit, "One of Us." Both songs represent two of his current lyrical
obsessions: "Face Down" is a hilarious, hip-hop-styled put-down of Warner
Bros. Records and the corporate recording industry, while "One of Us" gives
the singer the chance to speak about spirituality in universal terms.

Both of these songs received the most embellished introductions of the
night. Prior to the funky and invigorating "Face Down," in which The Artist
finds a multitude of ways to tell record executives to kiss his creative
ass, he repeatedly warned parents that if they had young children in tow,
this would be a good time to take them into the lobby. While the song did
contain a decent amount of indecent talk, songs like "Sexy MF" contained
more obscenities, while performances of "The Most Beautiful Girl in the
World" and "How Come U Don't Call Me Anymore" featured more conspicuously
sexual stage moves. Apparently, what concerned the artist about "Face Down"
was its threats of violent behavior; unlike the majority of America and its
entertainment industry, The Artist believes that subjecting young minds to
violence carries more potential for damage than exposing them to dirty
words or sexual language.

On "One of Us," written by Eric Bazilian of The Hooters, The Artist
transformed Joan Osborne's meditative rendition into a rousing number that
celebrated the existence of God rather than questioning it. Asking the
crowd to chant the lines, "Yeah, yeah, God is great/yeah, yeah, God is
good," The Artist altered the meaning of the song, emphasizing a more
traditional take on the lyrics.

In the end, it's impossible to watch The Artist and not be impressed by
his ability to work a crowd with nearly invisible cues. Even with the
hand-over-head claps and the occasional interspersing of "O-Weee-O" chants
(a routine he borrowed from The Wizard of Oz for the Batman
soundtrack), The Artist managed to lift the crowd's energy and enthusiasm
without relying too often on overworked showbiz clichés. Modern-day
vaudevillians like Michael Jackson and Garth Brooks would do well to take
note.

Even so, The Artist's show lacked the compact punch and mind-bending
outrageousness of his concerts from the early and mid-'80s. Moreover,
comparing the Nashville set list to the songs in The Artist's catalog, one
can't help but imagine how much better the concert would have been with
crisper pacing and a more judicious song selection.

But maybe that's why Prince Rogers Nelson is emphasizing artistry in his
stage name; after all, he didn't choose to call himself The Entertainer or
The Hitman or The King of Pop. His battles with Warner Bros., which ended
prior to his pointedly titled Emancipation album, raged over how
frequently he would release new work (he wanted more, they wanted less) and
over the lack of radio hits in his latter-day collections.

The Artist, it seems, wants to let the music simply roll out of him;
he's no longer willing to bend to pressures from outside forces. (During
the show he repeatedly shouted, "Don't let no one tell you what to do.")
For now, he's delivering long, slinky jams that emphasize the pleasures of
sex, the importance of spiritual reflection, and the need to be who we are.
As a jam-happy bandleader, he's as entertaining as any major U.S. star on
the road today. Even if his show wasn't a total success, it was a still
pleasure to see him back onstage, where he belongs.